A Sweet Life-kindle

by Andre, Bella

  Grinning, he walks past Brad and puts his arm around my shoulder. “You ready?”

  For hell? Sure, let me just go get my bag…

  “Um…”

  “I offered to drive Amanda home,” he says smoothly, while I look for an exit strategy that doesn’t involve violence or prison. Instead, I look at Kristin and plead with my eyes.

  She tilts her head to the side and shrugs. “That’s really sweet of you, Preston.”

  Before I can utter another word, Preston’s steering me toward a large black truck and opening the door. Okay, so I guess he gets points for having a truck, but that’s it. Five out of ten…

  Though he did open the door.

  And the truck is… really clean.

  It’s all black leather. Honest moment, it’s super-comfortable, like if I had to live in a car and make a go at being homeless, I’d take his truck hands down.

  Preston walks around to his side. Everything smells so good, not new, but almost sweet. Curious, I press my nose to the leather and smell. Cherry?

  “Are you smelling the seat?” Preston asks, his smile getting wider by the minute.

  “No.” I jerk away and fold my hands in my lap, “Just checking the, uh, leather for proper safety… ness.”

  Preston presses his lips together and gets into the truck, slamming the door behind him. When his full body turns to face me, I almost pass out from the sheer sexiness less than two feet away. And we're alone.

  Must. Not. Touch.

  Dark curly hair, deep-set dimples, green get-lost-in-me eyes, and a perfect smile? Thanks, God, feels good to stare at perfection and know I’ll never have it. No really, thanks.

  “Safety… ness?” He leans forward. The smell of his peppermint gum permeates the air in front of me. “Is that even a word?”

  “It is according to the Care and Training Manual for F150 trucks.” I smile sweetly.

  “Does that shit just pour out of your mouth willingly, or do you actually study up at night to make sure you have BS to fill the world with, just in case you get cornered?”

  I open my mouth to answer, but he keeps talking.

  “Because, I’ve got to admit,” he starts the truck, “it’s pretty impressive.”

  I say nothing. What am I supposed to say? Thank you?

  “So, where to?” he asks as he pulls the truck out of the parking lot.

  I give him directs to my little duplex and sigh in relief when he turns off the truck. Home. Finally.

  Preston licks his lips and laughs to himself, like my home amuses him. What the hell?

  Whatever. I open the door and turn to say thanks just in time to see him pull his larger than life body out of the truck and walk around it.

  “What are you doing?” I ask in a horror-filled voice.

  “Going home,” he answers with a simple shrug.

  “I didn’t adopt you. You aren’t a lost dog. Go home, Preston, to your own home.” I clap twice, and briefly contemplate whistling. Isn’t that how all creatures great and small respond?

  “I am.” He keeps smiling.

  I pray for patience. “Is this some kind of sick game?”

  “Game?” He grabs his bag from the bed of the truck and starts walking toward me. “Why would it be a game?”

  “You are just so…” I turn around and stomp toward my door, expecting him to follow me. Instead he goes around to the other side of the building.

  “Have a good night, Amanda!” Preston calls and then walks directly in the door.

  My next door neighbor.

  Is Preston!

  Where the hell is a paper bag!

  Chapter Four

  After showering and pacing my little apartment for at least an hour, I finally walk over to the wall we share and lean against it. Mrs. Butterworth follows.

  I hear some yelling and press my ear harder.

  Mrs. Butterworth is frozen in place.

  And then a barking I can only describe as directly from the pits of hell starts breaking my ear drums.

  Mrs. Butterworth, having a serious dog phobia, begins to scratch at the wall. The same wall I just had painted a week ago.

  “No!” I wail, trying to grab Mrs. Butterworth from her spot, but the gods of Olympus are clearly hearing her plight if her strength is any indication. “Let go!” I scream again.

  Mrs. Butterworth hisses at me.

  “Oh no, you don't.”

  Another hiss.

  “Stop that!” I smack her paw.

  She scratches me.

  I rear back.

  And she continues attacking the wall.

  Finally, I get up and grab a broom and shoo her away from the warzone, but she just jumps over it and makes a beeline toward the barking.

  “Problems?” A male voice says behind me.

  “Rape!” I scream at the top of my lungs, launching the broom toward the voice. Only realizing, after the launch that it’s Preston standing in my living room, and my door is unlocked.

  The broom misses him by a mile. He looks down at it then back at me. “Not much of an athlete?”

  “Why are you here!”

  Mrs. Butterworth finally stops her scratching and moves to stand between me and Preston. Finally! Someone’s on my side.

  “I heard yelling.” Preston bends down and tries to pet Mrs. Butterworth. She hisses at him and arches her back. “Wow, she's almost as friendly as you.”

  “Cute,” I mutter and cross my arms. “Can I help you with anything?”

  Preston grins. “I don’t know, can you?”

  My eyes narrow. “Be honest, are you here to kill me?”

  “Of course not.” He looks offended for a brief second then adds, “If I were here to kill you I wouldn’t announce my presence anyways.”

  “Reassuring.”

  “I thought so.” There goes that toothy grin again that makes me want to launch myself into his arms.

  “Anyway,” he backs up, scratching his head and giving me a glorious view of his lower abs, “I really did hear screaming, so I wanted to make sure you were alive.”

  “Breathing just fine.”

  “Good.” He pauses, shifting a bit on his feet, like he wants to ask me something.

  “When did you move in next door?”

  “Aw, how cute, you wish you could have helped me with the heavy lifting?” His eyes crinkle at the sides as he crosses his arms and smiles.

  “No.” I snort, “I don’t do heavy lifting.”

  “Believe me,” he rolls his eyes and points to the broom, “From here on out no heavy lifting or throwing of any objects. At least I don’t have tow orry about you hitting me with anything, your aim is shit.”

  My eyes narrow.

  With a laugh he backs away, Alright, I’ll see you this weekend?”

  “Come again?” I squeak.

  “Oh,” he walks out the door and yells behind him, “I joined book club!”

  “Well, Mrs. Butterworth, that settles it,” I mutter under my breath. “Definitely here to make my life hell for ruining his. Should be fun.”

  ***

  Work at the boutique Kristin and her family own a franchise in, goes by really fast that week. Preston never comes in, but I do keep getting irritating picture-texts of the hulk. I still can’t decide if I find it annoying or hilarious.

  Believe me, you’d be freaking out too if you shared a wall with Preston and had the gross misfortune of hearing the shower turn on every morning.

  Seven days of hearing him shower is seriously messing with my ability to keep my hands firmly planted at my sides. Must. Not. Attack.

  “Why are you smiling so big?” Kristin asks the day of book club.

  “I, uh, saw a funny YouTube video.” I quickly choke down some coffee and hide my phone in my purse.

  “He likes you.”

  “I like cats,” I answer. “And he doesn’t like me. He’s just… entertained by my inability to walk in a straight line and chew gum at the same time.”

  K
ristin places her hand on my arm. “Hey, that’s hard for some people.”

  “Encouragement. Awesome.” I nod and help her lock up the store. Book club is officially in an hour, and I’ve yet to eat anything since lunch.

  “Hey,” I unlock my car. “I’m going to run home real quick and grab a bite to eat then meet you guys at the coffee shop, alright?”

  “Perfect!” Kristin throws on her large black sunglasses and hops into her white Jeep. “Can you grab Preston too? His truck's in the shop.”

  “Well, maybe I don’t need food—“

  “Amanda.” Kristin starts her car and calls out the window, “Be mature. Play nice.”

  “Fine.”

  “Besides!” she giggles and waves, “We have a huge surprise for you two! Trust me, it’s going to be fantastic! You’ll see!”

  The last time Kristin surprised me, I ended up in the hospital with a black eye and staph infection.

  Not so sure I want another surprise.

  But I try to be optimistic.

  How bad can it be?

  Chapter Five

  We reach the coffee shop without having to detour to the hospital. I count this a victory, considering everything that pours out of Preston's mouth makes me want to cause bodily harm to his person.

  But, again, he does open doors.

  Let this be a note to all men everywhere: You can get away with a multitude of sins with a few good manners.

  We each grab a coffee and wait for Kristin and Brad to arrive.

  “What do you think it is?” he asks, taking a sip of black coffee. No sugar, no milk. Not that I memorized his drink. I'm not crazy. Ha, ha. Stop judging.

  “I’d say she’s prego again.” I nod. “Bet my life on it.”

  “Wow.” Preston nods his head approvingly. “I was going to say the same thing, except she drank wine last week. So sorry, but I’m going to have to kill you now.”

  “We had a good run.” I sighed.

  “I’ll make it fast.”

  “Choking?”

  “Damn, that’s violent, and here I was just going to poison you.”

  “Well, if you put something in my food, let me at least choose the food.”

  “Chocolate.” Preston leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Am I right?”

  “Close,” I agree meeting him halfway. “Chocolate cake, oreo cookie frosting, and a worm on top.”

  “Dirty girl.” His eyes darkened. “Death by mud pie.”

  “The only way to go,” I agree, my voice a bit breathless as I watch his tongue reach out and lick his lower lip.

  Preston moves his hand; it hovers over my leg just as the bell on the door rings. He jerks back his hand.

  We make eye contact. And suddenly I'm not so sure what he’s doing is about revenge. Because how do you fake that look? The look of pure desire. The same look I’m sure I’m giving him. Kristin officially has the worst timing in the world. She throws her purse down on the couch next to me and sits.

  “Ooo, mocha?” She doesn’t wait for my answer, just grabs the coffee out of my hands and takes a big sip.

  Brad sits by Preston and looks between the two of us.

  Something’s not right.

  “Oh my gosh!” I yell. “Are you getting divorced?”

  “What?” Both Brad and Kristin say in unison.

  “No!” Kristin pats my hand, “Why would you even think that?”

  “Brad has shifty eyes.” I point to Brad who does indeed look like he’s holding secrets of national security.

  “He’s a guy,” Kristin says, as if that explains everything. “He can’t keep secrets.”

  “I kept the secret about you getting a boob job.” Brad defends.

  I sigh into my hands while Preston shakes his head and pats Brads back.

  Kristin curses under her breath.

  “Nicely done.” I say.

  “So?” Preston asks, changing the subject away from Kristins boobs and moving us into safer territory where visions of Kristin choking Brad to death don’t exist.

  Brad and Kristin share a look then Kristin squeals. “We’re going to Hawaii!”

  Brad reaches across the table and grabs her hand, squeezing before looking at me and winking.

  I can’t be more thrilled, except what does it have to do with me and Preston? No! Oh hell, they’re going to ask us to babysit! Kristin knows how I feel about babysitting. I saw a therapist for two months after that last incident.

  Oh no. The thought occurs. I’m going to be an awful mother, and this will solidify that truth. I’ll be stuck with those kids for a week, and then I’ll rule out children forever. But I want kids. Life is so unfair.

  Preston gives Brad a high five. Since when did they become best friends? Oh right, three months Amanda, three months. It shouldn’t surprise me that they have at least two secret hand shakes as well as each others steak order memorized.

  “I’m so happy for you guys! How great is that?”

  My brain’s still trying to put together all the pieces of the puzzle. If they aren’t asking me to babysit, how is this a surprise for me and Preston?

  I give her a clueless look as if to say help a girl out, and I think she can read minds because she nods and says, “The reason we wanted to tell you both together is because Brad’s bonus actually includes four tickets.”

  Brad's a financial Advisor for Edward Jones. Part of the perk at working with such a huge firm is that you get trips based on quarterly performance. Last year they hit up Costa Rica.

  “Brad and I thought it would be fun to take our two closest friends. Isn’t that great? Can you believe it? A free trip to Hawaii over Thanksgiving Break! We leave the day after, on Black Friday!”

  Air. I need air, where is air? Is it hot in here? Why am I seeing black spots? I blink my eyes several times before the rest of the room again regains its natural state.

  “Swell.” Sorry, but that’s all I have in my repertoire of words to say at the moment; that and a word that shouldn’t be repeated out loud, especially considering their’s a family with small children close by who will most likely repeat things and then ask Mommy, You know what rhymes with that word? Duck! Duck! Duck! Duck! Only imagine replacing said word with something else. Right.

  “Guys, that is so generous of you, really!” Preston gives Brad a high five and Kristin a hug. “But who’s going to watch the kids while you’re gone?”

  “Oh, Brad’s parents said they would love to! It’s all working out so perfectly!” Kristin beams.

  “Isn’t it though?” I say through clenched teeth wondering if it was at all possible to put ex-lax in Brad’s Samaritan like parents coffee come tomorrow morning, “So I guess we don’t have much time to prepare. Isn’t Thanksgiving next week?”

  “Yes, we would have told you guys sooner, but we just found out this morning that Brad's parents were available to sit. I mean, we don’t trust just anyone to watch those two.”

  I’d like to point out that I'm the reason the person needs to have had military experience to watch the children, either that or at least some sort of surgical background.

  Kristin lies back against the couch and sighs happily. “We put in for the trip months ago, and it just happened to work out this way. Surprise!” She laughs again and throws her hands up in the air in a surprise manner.

  Preston glances my way, our gazes meet. The silent challenge is evident. There’s no way I would allow him to ruin a fantastic vacation; him and his gorgeous smile and tight ass? Staying the hell home. What’s ironic is he understands my unspoken challenge and grins. What I need is a game plan to get Mr. December to back out. Then I will have the most perfect vacation of all! Insert menacing laugh here.

  Preston meets my challenge with one of his own. His cocky little face turns challenging. He bites his lip and nods his head as if trying to communicate It’s on. He doesn’t want me joining the trip either.

  Well, you know what, Mr. I-can-have-any-girl-I-want? I will destroy you
from the inside out.

  My eyes squint harder and harder until Kristin has to clap her hands in front of me to break the trance. Of course, I jump and spill my latte.

  As I get up to leave, I see Preston pointing both fingers from his eyes to mine as if to say, I’m watching you.

  If that’s not creepy, nothing is. All I need to do is get through work this week, then before Friday, I will plead my case to Preston, making him feel the need to stay home while I go vacation in Aloha Land!

  Chapter Six

  Preston and I ride home in silence. I assume he’s trying to think of ways to lock me in my house so I miss the flight, but joke's on him. I’m going to be nailing his door shut. A free vacation sounds fantastic; a free vacation opposite the same guy I humiliated four years ago who just so happens to now be stalking my every waking moment? Not so much. He’s hot. I’ll grant him that. But he’s up to something, and I'm just the type of girl to fall for it. Hell, I fall for everything.

  And as much as I’d like to think I’m a tough girl, I really don’t want to lose my heart to a guy like Preston. A guy who’s so perfect that every other guy will most likely be compared to him for the rest of my life. That’s just asking for trouble.

  I drop him off, walk into my house, and start attacking my nails. What I need is to go for a run, but I feel guilty leaving Mrs. Butterworth at home by herself. She gets lonely and cranky; then she isn’t the best guard cat. Therefore, I try to spoil her to keep her on her best behavior. I throw on my sweats and wrap a sweater around Mrs. Butterworth. Her exposed skin leaves her quite cold during the winter time.

  Most people wonder what I’m doing with a hairless cat, but the answer is simple: I have allergies to certain animals, so she is the only option. Once you get to know her, the whole hairless aspect fades into the background. Since she can’t stay warm herself, she cuddles often and has a jet-engine purr that soothes my racked nerves. She was actually a gift from my parents when I graduated college. Some kids get cars; others get cool trips or watches. I however, got a cat.

  Perhaps it was some sort of hidden message of Well, she’s never going to find anyone, so we might as well get her a companion. Which would have been terribly depressing, but I like to think my parents just wanted me to not be so lonely. However the prospect that they might have thought it about me makes me want to defend myself. Please, I’ve been on plenty of dates. Just to prove it, I decide to pull out my journal and write out all the names of my past boyfriends.